Diary of a Culco Shopkeeper
by hexo67
Summary: A Culling Fanfiction where a perpetually bored disembodied spirit finds meaning in his life by selling crap to 15 murderous psychopaths during a battle to the death. Inspired by true events.
Yet another day on the job. I donned my Culco baseball cap, my Culco signature T-Shirt, and my black jeans before readying up for another round of work at the survival station.

I made sure to augment myself with Moneybags, Backpacker, and Load Dropper; the latter to ensure my Carjacker airdrop arrived in a timely fashion so that I could set up my C4 security system near the front door. Mike always loaded the packages. He had a pretty dangerous job considering the dynamite and impact grenades tended to malfunction. Culco had already lost ten employees to the dreaded Sapper loadout, as the explosives had a strange tendency to ignite without need of a flame.

Mike wished me the usual 'good luck' and the next thing I knew I was in a dark metal box awaiting the bloodbath. When the walls gave way to reveal the ever-humid jungle I quickly crafted a knife and a blowgun. I never attacked anyone in my store, but until I actually got there all bets were off. A little extra FUNC never could hurt. I loved FUNC.

Unfortunately, I spawned near Culco Outfitters: easily three hundred meters from my destination. There were some people that worked at Culco Outfitters too, but they were weird. Either that or stupid, considering the Survival Station was a far more traveled location.

After cutting up some sap who apparently didn't realize shoving was a thing I made the trek across the jungle landscape and swung open the door of my beloved shop. Naturally, it had been looted dry in every nook and cranny save the refrigerator; which housed a fly-ridden head I collected to gain seven FUNC.

I took a moment to heal at the recently enhanced life station and crafted a couple bandages to throw on the counter. Two uneventful minutes passed and soon a blowgun, a snare, and a syringe of Explosive Runs sat next to the bandages. From then on I waited, my FUNC now sitting at sixteen.

Five minutes into the match somebody stomped by, ignoring my shop completely. Two minutes later, a man wearing a silver SWAT mask, grey pants, and a grey hoodie attacked me with a machete as I was crafting another bandage. I blocked his second hit and dashed into my store, zipping around the counter and waving myself left to right. They injected you with a syrum before each battle that made it impossible to speak unless hit by a blowdart. Strange, I know.

My attacker seemed confused at first, but quickly grabbed nearly everything on the counter. At first I thought it would be another runaway, but he made his way over to the flashing blue box near the window and threw it open. A sabre gleamed at me from within and he nodded for me to take it. I did so happily and made sure to throw down my recently crafted bandage to make the deal more even. He nodded to me and was off. Bless his soul.

I quickly replenished my stock and stood behind the counter, praying my noble benefactor would emerge victorious in exchange for his good deed. It brought a tear to my eye that such compassion existed even during a battle to the death.

My second customer came at me with a recurve bow, and I was forced to seek refuge behind a stone column after an arrow crashed into my chest. After growing weary of wasting ammo he barged in, pipe wrench in hand. I darted back to my post and blocked his initial attack with my bare hands before giving us some space. He saw what I was offering and after observing my items, tossed a mantracker down and procured a blowgun from the counter. I regretted giving him a faulty product, as I emptied it of ammo beforehand to prevent it being turned against me.

This second customer left in peace, only to return as the gas was closing in. Likely he wanted to form an alliance, but I was a shopkeeper. I didn't take sides. He watched me run into the poison after I dropped the sabre I had been given. I wished him good luck with my dying breath. Today had been a good day.

My soul returned to Culco headquarters and, as per usual, I claimed the body of a Manbot and watched the rest of the game play out on the screen beside the host, Frank.

"So you're back," he said, knowing it was me before I made my presence known.

"Yup," I replied. "It was really fun today."

"Hah! I couldn't stop laughing! Keep it up, the viewers are LOVING IT."

A smile spread across my face as my would-be partner sent a blowdart into his katana-wielding opponent and finished him off with his shiny new sabre. Sometimes, miracles did happen.


End file.
